


i feel your heart, as if it was beating with mine

by JenelleLucia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, HIII i'm back and so i'm a dorobert stan, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, i hope you enjoy! i have to feed myself, there's some slight lorenz/hilda here, they're vampires hehe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21715327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenelleLucia/pseuds/JenelleLucia
Summary: “nevermind. someone might be watching. it wouldn’t do to have the eldest son of the vestra family to be meeting with the lowly only daughter of countess arnault.” // forbidden romance with a vampire au, dorobert.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

_first_. 

When Dorothea hears rustling amongst the rosebushes, the first thing she does is unsheathe her dagger. After that, when she takes a look at who’s come to her, she falters, and she places the dagger back into its sheath before standing up a little straighter. 

“I believed that you would be the type to give a girl a warning that you would be coming by.” 

Hubert shoots her a wry smile at that. He stands a distance away from where she overlooks the rest of the garden, comfortably nestled in the gazebo. He begins to approach her; it’s not unwelcome. “My apologies. Then I shall announce my arrival to you when I _do_ come to meet you.” 

“On second thought…” Dorothea ponders over the idea before shaking her head. “Nevermind. Someone might be watching. It wouldn’t do to have the eldest son of the Vestra family to be meeting with the lowly only daughter of Countess Arnault.” 

_Stepdaughter_ , she corrects herself and there’s a slight churn in her stomach when she thinks so. She makes sure that Hubert doesn’t notice the slight grimace on her face; it wouldn’t do at all. 

When she turns to finally face him, almost immediately Dorothea’s heart settles. It does not settle for long with every step that her companion takes towards her; each click upon cobblestone, and cobblestone meeting marble as he meets her inside the gazebo makes Dorothea’s heart flutter. 

(Not that she would say anything. Not yet.) 

“What brings you out here? Not a fan of the festivities?” Dorothea doesn’t look at him. She leans forward against the banister, eyes fixated on the rosebushes and topiaries before her. It was already quite the trip from Enbarr to Gloucester territory; Count Gloucester was known for throwing the most elaborate parties, after all, and this one was no exception. It took Dorothea quite a bit to slip through the crowds especially without her stepmother noticing her. 

“No. I take it that neither are you,” Hubert doesn’t look at her either, his own gaze fixated on the rosebushes and topiaries as well. 

“Sharp guess. You’re right about that.” A small smile casts across her face. Her gaze remains on the rosebushes ahead of her. “I also just needed one second for someone to stop reminding me that I’m engaged to Lorenz.” A wry smile crosses Hubert’s lips when she says so; it’s not news to anyone, and of course, not many people were happy about it -- the intended included. 

“And how are the preparations for the wedding going?” 

“Barely.” Dorothea then shakes her head, turning around to finally look over at Hubert. “You can’t imagine the death stares that Hilda had given me tonight.” Hilda normally meant well, of course; _normally_. 

“Are you planning on letting Lorenz see her while you two are wed?” 

“Of course. There are no strings attached to this marriage,” Dorothea crosses her arms the moment that she leans against the banister, eyes instead fixated on him instead of the rosebushes. Hubert notices. He looks back at her, and for the first time Dorothea finds comfort in the smile of his. “Besides, I’m not in love with him. This marriage is only for convenience.”

“For convenience, as all marriages are these days,” Hubert repeats. His eyes never leave hers, the brightest of greens and grays meeting. He’s surprised that she stands up straighter, and that she never backs down from his gaze. Most people would. 

"It’s not my business to pry, but...I’m assuming your family’s making you look for a spouse?” 

“Not for a while, no.” 

Dorothea mutters a “lucky” under her breath, and when she sees him crack yet another smile -- small and entirely reserved -- she supposes that that’s her little victory for the night. She’s made Lorenz smile and laugh, but deep down there’s nothing that comes out of it. Her fiancé showers her with presents, and he’s nice enough to apologize for constantly pretending. 

It’s unlike him, really, considering how he used to be back in boarding school. 

“I want something from you.” That makes Hubert stand up a little straighter, eyebrow cocked. 

“That’s funny. Not an, ‘I want something from you, _please_ ?’ or, _‘Hubert, may I ask something of you?’_ ” that wry smile returns to his face when he says so, and Dorothea can’t help but smile in return when it does. It’s another little victory. 

“Dance with me. Please.” She adds the ‘please’ this time, and when he looks at her his gaze is softer, _gentler_ and that’s really so unlike him. On the other hand, Hubert supposes that he can’t refuse her. He pushes himself off from where he stands on the banister of the gazebo and he holds his hand out to her. 

“I’m not much of a dancer. I gave you a fair warning.” 

“That’s alright. I needed one more person to dance with to fill my quota, anyway.” Dorothea takes his hand and moves closer to him, placing her free hand on his shoulder. Hubert pulls her ever closer, his free hand on her hip and they dance around the gazebo, slowly, so surely, and with no regard for who just might be watching. She’ll have to return to her stepmother later, and she may just smell Hubert’s scent on her; she had a keen nose, after all. The Vestras were not _that_ unrecognizable. 

“You decided that _I_ was the one to fill your quota to waltz.” 

“And?” 

“Your mother won’t be too pleased.” 

Dorothea wants to wave it off. It’s not like she didn’t know that already. 

“I know,” she responds, letting him let go of her waist to twirl her around, and they come together already. “Like I said earlier -- it wouldn’t do to have the eldest son of the Vestra family to be meeting with the only daughter of Countess Arnault.” 

“It wouldn’t do to have us _meet_ , and yet…” 

“Let’s just say that we ran into each other by chance. That sounds more honest.” Her stepmother would have liked her to come back with a couple scratches and bruises on her arm from a good fight; the Vestras were not one to back down, and in place of that used their connections and words to eliminate those within the shadows. Hubert scoffs at that. 

“You want to be _honest_ about meeting with a Vestra,” he repeats. It’s not verbatim, but he knows where Dorothea is getting at. It’s quite dangerous, really. “You must be...a glutton for punishment.” 

“Call me an emotional masochist. I find these types of meetings rather... _exciting_.” They dance in silence, the only thing breaking it being the crickets chirping in the bushes and the owls hooting overhead. 

“ _Exciting_ , you say?” 

“Yes.” 

“For what reason, might I ask?” 

Dorothea tilts her head with an almost knowing smile. “Hubie, you’ve never touched a romance novel a day in your life, have you?” 

“Not particularly. Romance isn’t my favorite genre.” 

“Hm. I suppose that’s fair.” There was no use in explaining something to someone who might not understand. After a moment or so, they pull away from each, and they lower themselves in bows and curtseys. Hubert is the one who raises himself first, then dusting off his dress coat. 

“I must say, you’re a wonderful dancer.” He looks over to the bright lights of the Gloucester manor before sighing. He doesn’t turn back to her. “I’ll head in first. Please, don’t take so long out here.” 

“Showing concern for a family enemy, Hubie?” 

“Nothing of the sort,” he responds just as curtly, then starting to take his leave. “My best wishes for your engagement to the soon - to - be Count Gloucester.” Dorothea watches him start to walk away from her, and he’s halfway back to the manor when she calls out to him. He doesn’t turn back to her, but he stops. She hopes that he’s listening. 

“I want to see you again,” is what she calls out to him, ringing clear in his ears and he pauses for a moment, letting the crickets and owls fill the silence. 

“Is it to satiate your emotional masochism? Or to fulfill your excitement?” he asks. Dorothea blinks, swallowing and mustering up her words. 

“Both, maybe?” there’s another pause. “So...can I?” 

She chews on her bottom lip -- force of habit -- as she waits for his response, and she doesn’t understand why she perks up right away when he speaks. She can hear that wry smile in his voice. One more little victory for the night. 

“I will consider it.” alright. _One_ last little victory, and she waits a moment or two before going back to join the festivities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dorothea is not the one who initiates their next meeting.

_second_. 

Stepmother wasn’t happy with her meeting Hubert. Lorenz, on the other hand, didn’t really care. Dorothea supposes if there was one reaction she was more than thankful for? His. he had taken her into his office one day, gestured for her to take a seat, and he apologizes for Hilda’s behavior the night before. 

“You don’t have to,” Dorothea waves the apology off. “If I loved someone as much as Hilda loved you, I believe I’d be the same.” 

lorenz smiles wryly. “And you don’t love me as much as Hilda loves me?” 

“I believe that we are all made for someone.” 

“Well, _one_ is in the word.” 

Lorenz’s response makes her laugh, and Dorothea lifts her teacup to clink against his. He returns it, and they drink together. His eyes drift from the contents of his teacup over to her, and that’s what makes Dorothea do the same. He stares at her, eyebrow arched and that wry smile turns into a rather... _inquisitive_ one. 

“What?” 

“I saw you spent the night with Marquis Vestra’s son. _H_ _ubble_ , yes?” 

“It’s _H_ _ubert_ ,” Dorothea corrects him, but she has to admit that Lorenz’s slip up makes her laugh yet again. She sets her teacup and saucer down onto the coffee table, and she looks up at him. “Why? Does _Hu_ _bble_ pique your interest?” 

“Not so much my interest as he piques yours.” Lorenz sets down his own cup, and he sits back on his chaise with a leg crossed over his. “What did you do with him last night, hm? Spoke a little? Danced a little?” 

“Spoke a little, danced a little. Nothing more, nothing less.” Dorothea sighs, then sitting back on her own chair. “My stepmother’s not too happy about it. She gave me an earful last night.” 

Lorenz seethes in through his teeth, and when his fiancée nods slowly and understandingly they both take up their teacups and saucers at the same time, and they sip at them quietly before setting them down once more -- just as slowly and awkwardly as they had picked them up. 

“May I ask how bad the damage was?” Lorenz is the first to ask. He’s always the first to ask; the topic finds its way into their conversations more often than not as of usual. Dorothea rolls up her sleeves to reveal the imprints of nails dug deep into her skin, and she leans in to let Lorenz see her cheek. The bump on her cheek is barely noticeable, but even under the makeup caked on it is still there. “Ah. It’s all very bad then.” 

“You have no idea. I don’t think I should be used to any of this at this point.” 

"You shouldn't be." Lorenz pauses for a moment before offering, "you know that you’re always welcome to stay here with me.” 

“Thank you, Lorenz. My mother -- ” and she doesn’t bother to correct herself on any sort of formalities, “ -- will be pounding down your door and asking you where I am until you respond to her.” 

“Meaning…” 

“Hilda will absolutely _adore_ me.” 

“As if she doesn’t already.” And Dorothea finds that she can relax easy and laugh when Lorenz adds to what she says. “Really, Hilda and I will do our best to hide you from your mother. Stay for as long as you need to.” 

“What did I do to deserve a friend like you?” Lorenz had grown a little sweeter over the years; Dorothea doesn’t think she’s entirely bothered by it all. “You know, had our families not arranged this marriage, I think Hilda would be very lucky to have you for a husband.” 

“I think whoever decides to marry you would be very lucky to have you for a wife.” 

“...Lorenz, that’s you.” 

“Well, yes, but I’m lucky enough that you’re letting me see Hilda even after we've wed.” 

"I told you before -- we are all made for someone." 

Dorothea lifts her teacup and saucer in her hands once more, then shaking her head as she looks over at him. She sips at the tea in her cup, and once it’s empty she lowers it and holds it out for him to pour more. He obliges. 

“Are you going to see him?” 

“Who?” Dorothea has an idea of who Lorenz is asking about, and she takes a sip of her tea as she shakes her head in response. 

“Why not?” 

“He lives far away.” 

“Does that matter?” is the last thing that Lorenz asks her, and she figures that for once, he’s right. _Does it matter?_

Dorothea bites her bottom lip, then shaking her head and answering, “it doesn’t.” 

She watches as Lorenz sets down his teacup, pulling a piece of paper out from underneath the paperweight and his fountain pen. He scribbles something (“No peeking!” he tells her, to which she rolls her eyes in response) onto it before setting it to the side to let the ink to dry. From what little that she saw on the letter it was something to _H_ _ubert_ specifically. 

“What’s in the letter, Lorenz?” at this point, Dorothea’s given up on peeking over the letter after a back and forth between them -- who was peeking over the letter, and Lorenz trying to hide it from her. 

There’s silence between them for a moment, every now and then sipping tea from their cups. Lorenz looks at her with a wry smile, then testing to see if the ink had dried. 

“You’ll see.” 

“I’ll see,” Dorothea repeats, almost mimicking him; they get a laugh out of that before Lorenz offers to pour her more tea. 

. 

The express messenger arrives much quicker than Lorenz thinks, and when Hubert answers the door to take the mail, he’s not expecting a letter from the soon - to - be Count Gloucester. there are plenty of guesses as to what it might be—a belated thank you letter (which might not be, since those had come in the mail a long time ago), an early wedding invitation, or even   
  
( _No_ , Hubert thinks.) 

He closes the grand doors, setting the other letters down on the counter by the foyer and heads up the staircase with his letter. Never once does he remove his gaze from the swirly cursive that was Lorenz’s handwriting and beneath his gloves he can feel the design of the roses and vines that make up the Gloucester family seal on the back. He turns down long corridors, strides moving faster as he finally counts the doors down to his office—the last ones on the right. 

Hubert pushes open the left door with his back, gaze not once averted from the envelope in his hands. He flips over to run his finger over the seal again; Lorenz would never half ass a seal like this, so he’s sure it the letter’s not forged. By the time he makes it to his desk he’s run his thumb beneath the flap of the envelope, careful not to break the seal and he takes out the letter in question. He unfolds it, skimming through it first before reading through it carefully. 

_D_ earest _Hubert—_

Hubert raises his brows in surprise at who the sender is. 

_I hope you’ve been faring well since our last meeting. I am no good with words, but I want to keep this letter short and to the point._

Hubert guesses that that’s Dorothea’s plan as he reads through the letter, gaze flitting from word to word as he searches for a hidden meaning in her words. He thinks he might be reading into this too much; before her, he was never the type to. 

_I wish to see you again._

_It’s sudden. My mother will never approve, but if i’m not seeing you in our villa, I don’t think she’d know— nor would she care. Lorenz is letting me stay with him for as long as I need. He’s fine with you coming to see me._

“Assertive, this one,” Hubert mutters to himself, sitting back in his seat. He continues to read. 

_I hope you’ll say you’ll come. I doubt anyone would be watching us here_. 

Dorothea’s smarter than that, he thinks. _B_ _ecause_ it’s her, there are eyes everywhere — Arnault, Vestra, it doesn’t matter; there are eyes _everywhere_ , watching them, making sure they keep face and the family rivalry. It’s not necessarily a rivalry when their families are killing each other; Hubert knows that’s the truth. 

(Hubert decides that he’s deciphered this letter, because in the end he’s only known her for a night and that she would never write such a thing. 

Strangely enough, those words pull at him in some way.) 

_I'll be waiting for you here in Gloucester territory. Speak to no one of the contents of this letter, as they are for your eyes only._

Lorenz has quite the way with words, Hubert surmises as he finally ends the letter — warm regards from Dorothea, hopes that he entertains her request for a visit, so on and so forth. He assumes that she’s not expecting a visit from him, either; that’s what makes him fold the letter back up, tuck it under one of the pages of a book that he dog-eared from a while back, and a couple moments later he walks out of his office. 

“Is there anything that you need, Lord Hubert?” Quincy catches up with him as he passes by in the halls, and Hubert shakes his head.

“Just inform my father that I'll be in Gloucester territory for a few days,” Hubert’s gaze is fixated to his bedroom, long strides making it almost near hard for his family's head butler to catch up to him. Quincy blinks in surprise, walking a little faster to try and catch up to him and keep up the conversation. 

“We received no word from Count Gloucester that he wanted to do business --” 

“It's not the count. It's his son.” and technically, he wasn’t wrong; Lorenz was the one who wrote the letter to him in _her_ place, after all. “He wanted to discuss...business matters.”

Quincy seems to accept that as an answer, and he continues following Hubert down the hall. “Shall I tell the carriage master to prepare for the ride to Gloucester territory, Milord?” 

“Please.” he hurries off without so much a word, and Hubert says nothing more, entering his room to pack. 

He’s off to Gloucester territory come nightfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year !! thanks for giving this a read, i'll see you on the next update !!

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by my lovely friend kyara! please go check out her work on IG / twitter: @kyaramon / @TheKyaramon, and i'm out here right now saying that i love dorobert with my whole entire being ;; 
> 
> thanks for reading, and come yell @ me on twitter!: @jenellexlucia


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